Lightning raced towards Shirou. Eyes widened, he sprinted before leaping sideways to avoid the next. With surgical precision, Atrum shot more lightning towards him, leaving smoking, black marks on the wall when they didn't find their mark.
Shirou moved like a man possessed, weaving through lightning like a needle through cloth. But he couldn't get any closer, not with Atrum's rapidfire magecraft raining down on him.
The chitter of unrestrained electricity echoed throughout the room, interspersed with the grating cacophony of lightning strikes. Shirou's ears rang.
He couldn't fight in this room. From a tactical standpoint, the enclosed space magnified the task of dodging the lighting grievously. He had less area to move, cramping his movements, limiting the possible actions he could take. A broader position would grant greater flexibility.
The crack of thunder. Shirou crouched behind the platform wall, and the lightning streamed over his head harmlessly. His hair stood on end, just from the residual static.
If confinement were the only issue, he might've made do. But the longer he remained in this room, the higher the chance a child would die, struck by a stray bolt. They were too vulnerable. He had to switch locations, and fast.
In a way, Shirou was thankful for the magus' precision. Atrum was avoiding collateral damage. Perhaps he did not want to be caught in his own explosions, or perhaps he did not want to destroy his expensive machinery. Either way, Shirou was the only target, and the children were safer for it.
Another set of thunderbolts launched. This time, the projectiles bent over the wall towards him, curved at a jagged angle. But their velocity had diminished, and Shirou rolled away from the closest, narrowly avoiding being hit.
He doesn't know my exact location, Shirou noticed. If Atrum closed the distance, he could easily see where Shirou was positioned. But the magus was cautious, wary despite his firepower. Atrum hadn't left the exitway, instead choosing to keep his distance. If Shirou wanted to relocate, he would have to force his way through.
Shirou took a silent, deep breath. When the next barrage arrived, Shirou evaded them, then leapt over the platform guardrails. He threw his shinai straight towards Atrum, projected another, and launched it too. Focused, the magus shot thunderous lashes towards the projectiles, vaporizing them both. But that gave Shirou a brief window to close the gap, and he projected a new shinai in his hand.
Shirou hammered the sword into Atrum's face, hitting him again and again. Atrum let out a shriek, stumbling back, blood pouring from his now-crumpled nose.
Just like when he fought the ice user, Shirou swung his shinai to finish him off, but Atrum was prepared, and he blocked the blade with his forearm. Before Shirou could withdraw, Atrum wrapped his fingers around it.
"You'll pay for that," Atrum snapped, eyes wild. He channeled magical energy into the shinai. Lightning coursed through the wood, destroying the projection instantly. The rest of it flew straight towards Shirou, point-blank. Too close. He couldn't dodge in time.
Desperately, Shirou threw up his reinforced left arm before the lightning's path. White-hot heat speared through limb and shoulder, swathing him in pain. A scream slipped between his teeth.
There was no time to writhe, however, as Atrum's hand soared toward him, millions of volts crackling from the magus' palm. If he touches me, I'm dead. He dropped to the ground, ducking under Atrum's arm, then scurried away, exiting the laboratory.
Shirou ran through the hotel hallway. His footfalls were uneven, pain lancing through his body whenever he landed on his wounded foot.
"Do you truly believe you can escape me?" he heard Atrum say. A charged hiss, followed by a deafening boom. Shirou bent the corner, avoiding the electric blast that tailed him. Without looking back, he scrambled through the passages, twisting and turning at random until he was sure he had lost Atrum. Shirou may have not known where he was going, but neither did his opponent.
He felt a trifling glint of triumph. With Atrum outside the laboratory, the children would be left alone, away from the dangerous magus. Shirou would return for them once he had the opportunity.
Now he could focus on himself.
First, he had to find a better location. Hallways were too linear, too direct. Shirou could only approach in a straight line. Atrum would have an easy shot.
He couldn't run forever. Cover was a necessity. The hotel walls were lined with doors on both sides. As Shirou ran through, he tried each doorknob, twisting madly.
The first one was locked, as was the second. The third, locked as well. Locked, locked, locked. Finally, Shirou turned and found no resistance, and the hotel room clicked open. He rushed inside, then slammed the door shut, locking it.
The interior of the hotel suite was adorned with a matching set of bed, dresser, desk, and chair. There was a bathroom and a kitchen to the side, a radius window overlooking Shinto to the center. Shirou quickly dragged the bed and desk against the door, forming a makeshift barrier.
It wouldn't hold for very long, but Shirou needed a moment to recoup, to form something of a plan instead of relying solely on instinct.
He dropped all his Reinforcements. The longer he held it, the more he taxed his reserves. Magical energy was a precious resource, one he had to conserve. Wasting it would throw away his only chance at victory. He needed to preserve it for combat.
The unpleasant reek of burnt meat wafted from Shirou's side. His left arm dangled uselessly, skin the color of coal, sleeve disintegrated. He couldn't even curl his fingers; his nerves had to be shot. His left leg was in a similar state, a canvas of melted pink, black, and red, but he could at least control it.
Reinforcement was truly a marvel. Without it, he would have died. Instead, he had only lost half his body. Better half than all of it, he thought grimly.
What other resources did he have? Shirou tore through the kitchen, sliding open drawers and pulling open cabinets. He found pots, pans, utensils, cutting boards, spices, and more kitchen essentials, eventually finding a kitchen knife. Hotel knives weren't very sharp on their own, but Reinforcement could change that. He gripped it with his good hand.
Atrum spoke from outside the suite, muffled and proud. "Your futile struggling only prolongs your suffering. You can't hide forever."
Still hiding, Shirou discerned the charge of electricity, then the sound of wood splintering violently, followed by a long, piercing chitter that slowly faded away, like the chirping of a flock of birds. A minute later, the sequence of sounds repeated, but closer this time. Atrum was blasting open each suite one-by-one, then filling it with electricity. He's trying to smoke me out.
Boom, splinter, chitter. Another suite blasted open.
The hotel suite was even more cramped than the laboratory. There was nowhere to escape Atrum's assault. Shirou was a sitting duck.
The smell of charcoal and singed plastic rolled in from the hall. He heard footsteps that stopped right outside his door.
He had to go.
Shirou eyed the window, then pried it agape. Reinforcing his limbs, he leapt outside, right as the suite door was torn apart. Falling through the winter chill, wind shrilling past his ears. He was far higher than he had expected, and the pavement was rapidly approaching.
Checking above, Shirou was alarmed to see Atrum's torso outside the window, energy gathering in his fist. Whirling mid-air, Shirou purposely crashed through the lower floor's curtain wall, out of Atrum's sight. Shards of glass littered the floor, illuminated by the outside thunderbolt. His body rattled when he impacted the ground, his burns aching and throbbing.
Shirou got up, dizzy but unscathed. He was in the room where he had first met the shrouded woman. Miraculously, the flames were gone, and he could now see it was a ballroom, and a luxurious one at that. Ionic pillars, pools of crystalline water, marble steps marred by flames.
At this point, he could flee. He could run outside the building and scream for help. He could be safe, surrounded by civilians, and live to fight another day. But there was no doubt in his mind that Atrum would escape as well. It was pure happenstance that Shirou chanced upon him tonight. There was no guarantee Shirou would find him again. And he would be damned before letting an unrepentant monster roam free.
In the distance, Shirou caught the sound of steps on stairs. Too late now. He hid behind a pillar close to the wall, obscuring himself from view.
"Running, running, and more running. A boorish, wasted effort. Does it not get tiring?" Atrum asked, feigning a sigh.
Shirou became utterly motionless, quiet as a shadow, not daring to move a muscle. He stilled his breath. His heart pounded like a motor.
"Still, I must acknowledge your impressive persistence. What if we came to an agreement? You come out, and I promise I won't hurt you," Atrum sneered, tone laced with ridicule. Sparks accumulated in his fist, growing louder and louder.
Once again, Atrum was playing it safe. He didn't waste mana, nor did he take unnecessary risks. He was the hunter, and Shirou the cornered prey. The moment Shirou stepped out, he would get blasted to bits.
"I'll give you ten seconds to come out. Ten, nine, eight…"
Shirou closed his eyes, concentrating, mind racing.
"...seven, six, five…"
He had always projected things right before him, in his hands or at his feet. But range was an impediment, not an impossibility. The farther away he projected things, the higher the mana cost.
"...four, three…"
Energy churned within his body, and he projected a copy of his shoe several meters away, behind a different pillar, a fraction above the ground.
"...two, one."
The shoe materialized and dropped to the floor, just barely peeking over the edge of the pillar. The sound of its thump was faint, but it echoed throughout the room.
"There!" From Atrum's fist, a potent blast of lighting whipped forth, destroying the pillar in its entirety.
Now was Shirou's chance. While Atrum was distracted, Shirou exploded off the ground, barreling towards his enemy as swiftly as he could. Caught unaware, Atrum attempted to adjust his attack, but Shirou was faster. Clutching the kitchen knife, Shirou slashed with all his might, and Atrum could scarcely block. Quicker than a blink, the steel bit through cloth, skin, and flesh, stopping in his bone. Blood splattered through the air, and Atrum's agonized scream reverberated throughout the space.
Instead of going for the kill, Shirou let go of the knife and jumped back, leaving the blade lodged within Atrum's arm. He knew how Atrum would counter, and so Shirou was able to avoid the responsive barrage of electricity.
Shirou projected another knife, waiting for Atrum's electricity to falter. There was a meter to his magecraft, Shirou had observed, a sort of punctuation. Brief as it was, Atrum always left space between his attacks. He wasn't capable of producing an endless stream of lighting. That created a pattern, one that Shirou could exploit.
In time, Atrum's lightning faded, and Shirou hurtled forward. He aimed for the heart, but Atrum was able to leap back, and Shirou was only able to stab him in the stomach.
Atrum let out a blood-curdling scream, full of trepidation. He released lightning in every direction, and Shirou was forced back. There was an increasing sense of fear in Atrum's eyes, and he turned around and fled, running up the steps, blood dripping from his wounds.
Shirou wouldn't let him get away. He sprinted up the stairs, but Atrum was gone. He followed the trail of red staining the carpet through a hallway, turning an intersection. But the moment he did, he found himself face-to-face with Atrum.
Roaring, the magus expelled lightning everywhere, aiming for Shirou, but also striking the ceilings, walls, and floor. Shirou couldn't avoid it fully. Electricity grazed his shoulder.
Shirou fell back, gasping. By the time he recovered, Atrum had disappeared, behind a wall of rubble where the hallway used to be.
Atrum couldn't have gone far. Shirou began trundling through the hotel, searching for his target. But he had no idea where he was. He was lost, and Atrum was benefiting from it. Shirou clenched his fist, frustrated. So close, yet so far.
Letting his Reinforcement fade, Shirou instead directed magical energy towards an ear, enhancing his auditory perception. At first, he could only hear himself, the sound of his own uneven pants. But the more he explored the floor, the more he attuned himself to his newfound senses, and he began picking up on more subtle ditties.
The shudder of rubble and dust. The warble of peripheral winds. And, in a distant corner, the maladroit gait of an injured man.
Found him. Shirou moved with purpose. He traveled to the opposite end of the floor, winding through corridors and passageways, tracking down his quarry, listening all the while. Finally, he was at the other end of the collapsed hallway. There were a number of closed doors here, and another stairwell that led up and down.
Shirou found Atrum at the end of the hallway. The knives Shirou had left in him were gone. Red and black burns took their place. He cauterized his wounds, Shirou realized.
Atrum's hand grasped a parti-colored stone, spherical, but with disks at the top and bottom. It looked like something from a museum, with strange markings and symbols and signs of age wreathing it. He must have taken the object from one of the nearby rooms.
Shirou didn't care what it was. He charged forward, ready to end this once and for all.
Atrum's eyes burned with cold furor. "Rage," he proclaimed.
Before, Shirou had considered Atrum's earlier electricity to be a form of lightning. Powerful, dangerous, but manageable. But now he emitted lightning in the truest sense of the word. Like the wrath of an ancient storm, the coming lightning was overwhelming, overpowering. It filled the entire hallway, every angle, every corner. It was an unending river of destruction, one that Shirou had no hope of escaping.
Shirou's eyes burned, blinded by the incandescent light. The accompanying thunder deafened him. Reinforcing his body, Shirou tried to dodge like he had before, but was struck in the chest, leg, and arm simultaneously.
Agony spiraled through Shirou's body. He crumpled to the floor, searing from the outside in. His flesh was singed, his skin melting. From the ground, he could only struggle as Atrum approached with calm steps.
"Still alive?" Atrum said. "Good."
He swung a vicious kick at Shirou's head, causing Shirou to sputter blood.
"How dare you wound me?" he snarled, all composure lost. Another kick sent Shirou skidding across the floor, and a stomp broke his foot.
Shirou tried to fight back, but Atrum responded with another round of kicks, aiming his kidney, his ribcage, his stomach, and åny of his other organs.
Atrum breathed heavily, gritting his teeth. "To think I had to resort to using the Primeval Battery on a mere child."
Before Shirou could act, Atrum grabbed him up by the collar, raising him until they were eye-level. He stared directly into Shirou's eyes.
"I've wasted enough time on you," he said. "Any last words?"
Shirou said something indistinct, while silently moving his fingers.
"I can't hear you," he said. "Speak up."
Shirou weakly raised his right hand, and jammed his thumb down on the pepper spray he had retrieved from his pocket. Particles flew straight into Atrum's head, assailing his eyes and nose. He howled, hands darting to his face, dropping Shirou in the process.
Feebly, while Atrum was writhing, Shirou crawled back, hauling his useless body away. More than anything, he wanted to end Atrum while he had the chance. But he could barely move. Weak as he was, Atrum could kill him without needing his vision.
He turned his attention to the stairwell, dragging himself to it. He tumbled down the steps, head bouncing against the stone, ending at the feet of the stairs.
Once again, he was in the room where he had met the shrouded woman, the room of pillars, glass, and water.
Once again, it was his Reinforcement that saved him. A normal person would have died back there, but his training had given him enough durability to survive.
There wasn't much time. Pepper spray only lasted a few minutes. Atrum would come soon. Shirou's eyes landed on the hole in the wall he had fallen through earlier.
"Trace, on," he murmured. A long, thick coil of wire formed in his hand. Mustering his strength, Shirou limped around the pillars bordering the ballroom, drawing out the wire, making his way to the hole. Once he was close enough, he plummeted to the ground, leaning against the last pillar.
"I know you're listening," he croaked. His throat was cooked. "I need your help."
A breath of quiet. For a moment, Shirou thought she wouldn't respond.
"How pitiful," the woman's voice finally said. "Do you wish for me to save you?"
"No," he said. "I need you to protect the children. I know you can ensure their survival."
The voice went silent for a moment. "Is that all you seek?"
"They're the only ones that matter right now," he whispered.
"Fine then. Consider it done."
"Swear it to me," he said. "Swear that you'll get them out of here in one piece."
"You are in no position to be making demands of me," she said, a tinge of irritation lacing her tone.
"I need to know they'll be protected. Please."
He waited for a response.
"You're the only one who can do it," Shirou pleaded. "I don't have anyone else."
Silence, then a brief sigh. "Look out the window, boy."
He turned his head. Through the glass, there was a small flicker of lilac light in a distant field. Then came the shapes of the children, still unconscious, dressed in white. For now, they were out of harm's way.
A gentle wave of relief washed over his heart. Shirou couldn't help but smile like an idiot. "Thank you. For everything."
Another pause. "Fool," she said quietly. "Why plead for others' salvation and not your own?"
Shirou forced himself upright, fighting through aches and spasms. Despite it all, his mind was at peace. He felt a calm down to the center of his bones, cool and vast and deep.
"Because now I can finish what I started."
Shirou projected a large copper block, wrapped part of the wire around it, then tossed the rest of the wire out the gap in the curtain wall. He sat down behind the block, making himself as small as possible, and dropped all the Reinforcements on his body. His preparations were complete.
Atrum came down the steps a few moments later. His eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted with anger. Electricity enveloped him like a second skin, an effective melee defense. In his hand, the Primeval Battery shone.
"You cannot defeat me," Atrum said darkly. "You cannot escape. Your struggles are meaningless. Your life ends here."
"Shut it," Shirou growled. "I'm tired of hearing you talk."
Atrum's eyes narrowed. "Rage," he said, and the onslaught began.
Sourced from the Primeval Battery, wroth lightning rampaged towards Shirou, thundering like a crazed animal, an immediate death sentence. Shirou couldn't run. He couldn't fight. He closed his eyes, ready for the end.
But none came. The energy raged and hissed against the copper block, coming perilously close to Shirou, but leaving him otherwise untouched.
Shirou felt a wry satisfaction. In the face of death, his final gambit had succeeded.
The way humanity defended against lightning was with a lightning rod. A lightning rod was designed to handle lightning from the skies above. That's why they need to be on the highest point: to attract the greatest amount of strikes. But here, lightning came from directly in front of him. All Shirou needed was a conductive barrier between them and he had a lightning rod.
The lightning rod was his shield and his lifeline. A normal lightning rod wouldn't be able to withstand the endless, unyielding stream of lightning from the Primeval Battery. But Reinforcement didn't just enhance an object's strengths, it enhanced its purpose. A reinforced lightning rod would provide the best path for electricity, more conductive than any other possible surface. It would survive even against the Primeval Battery. At least for a while, he hoped.
Atrum's eyes widened, surprise taking hold, before he amplified his power, increasing his output. Good. He hadn't realized it yet.
The world shook. The lightning converged into the shape of a dragon, and Shirou pushed more energy into his Reinforcement, just able to match Atrum's attack.
But it wasn't enough. He needed more power, but his circuits were already pushed to the limit.
Shirou split his mind into two parts, forming another circuit out of his nerves while simultaneously maintaining his Reinforcements. A pained groan escaped his throat as he burned in all aspects, inside and out. He extracted as much magical energy as he could. He poured it all into his Reinforcements.
They held. The unending stream of lightning screamed at him, superheating the stone in the room. His eardrums popped, and he could feel his spilled blood crusting over. A little longer, Shirou thought, praying.
The copper wall groaned as it was struck a thousand times. The floor rumbled. Glass shattered. Shirou fought to stay conscious, his senses overloaded. His only adversary was his own weakness. Just hold on a little more…
At last, the lightning ceased, but it was too soon.
"You're insane," Atrum said, voice trembling. Shirou grimaced. Atrum had finally caught on, and he had stopped his attack.
A lightning rod didn't just attract lighting, it redirected it. The copper wire connected to the copper block served that purpose, and it was wrapped around each pillar of the ballroom. The majority of the incoming electricity was streaming into the pillars, the very foundation of the hotel. The rest of it was trailed outside the glass, applying pressure on both ends.
And now, as dust filled the air, the structure was on the verge of collapse, with Shirou and Atrum the only inhabitants. But it wasn't enough. The building was deteriorating, but not fast enough.
Shirou stood with wobbling legs, limping to the nearest pillar, every step heavy as concrete.
"I can't beat you, Atrum," he uttered hoarsely. "But I can bring you down with me."
With the meager remnants of his magical energy, Shirou reinforced his arm until it was stronger than steel.
"Stop!" Atrum yelled. "You can't do this!"
Shirou slammed his fist into the nearest pillar. He held nothing back.
The pillar shattered into pieces, and the building rumbled as if in an earthquake. The walls crumbled, dust suffusing through newly formed cracks like a sandstorm, pelting Shirou with shards of rock. Above, the structure faltered, and giant chunks of steel and stone crashed from the upper floors, ramming into the floor with a shuddering impact. Boom. Boom. Boom. The collisions were relentless.
Leaning against the wall, Shirou could only watch as Atrum tried to flee, panic in his features. The magus began blasting the surroundings with lightning, but everytime he cleared a path, more rubble would fall. But he was making progress, slowly but surely clearing a path to escape.
Shirou couldn't let that happen, but his legs were trapped under the debris. With a shaking arm, Shirou threw a sharp chunk of debris, knocking the Primeval Battery out of Atrum's hands. Atrum yelled, and he reached for it in the air, but it was soon lost amidst the falling rubble. His eyes warped, as despair finally settled in, the rubble following, crushing him under the weight of a million stones, the weight of his own Workshop.
The edge of Shirou's vision began to darken, as more fragments of the building landed around him. He couldn't escape, by now more corpse than man. This place would be his grave, buried underneath scorched rubble, unable to lift a finger.
In the end, he had lived a blessed life. He had friends and family. His dream wouldn't come true, but at least the children were safe.
Shirou closed his eyes, letting the darkness creep in.
Perhaps it was destiny…